


A Bitter Taste Upon Thy Toungue

by MonokumaCuddles (SucculentStrawberries)



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bonding, Crack Treated Seriously, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, False Identity, Family Secrets, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friendship/Love, Humor, Identity Issues, Island Mode (Dangan Ronpa), M/M, Rare Pairings, Secret Identity, Secrets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:02:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22209862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SucculentStrawberries/pseuds/MonokumaCuddles
Summary: ((Tags to be updated as story progresses))Teruteru Hanamura is the Ultimate Chef. He's a master at melding flavours, a connoisseur of the culinary, discerning of the delicious-So why does every word falling from his lips taste so foul? Why does every sentence about his life or his proud boasting about his hobbies and dashing looks coat his mouth like rat poison?One of his classmates may know a little something about that. Eventually, one develops an immunity, can even turn it into a coating that protects instead of harms. When one has ingested as much poison as Gundham Tanaka has, it becomes much easier to swallow...
Relationships: Hanamura Teruteru/Tanaka Gundham
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	A Bitter Taste Upon Thy Toungue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and welcome to the first fic under my new pseud! :D I've been wanting to post some sfw/silly/more 'normal' fics for a while, and didn't want to make a whole separate account since they wouldn't be often and my rarest pairs would make it easy to connect them anyways. So I'm using this just so people who click my big list of fics on main can filter by pseud for the specific content they want! I hope that works well enough!  
> ~~~
> 
> As for this fic: I have no idea. It came to me along with many other oneshot concepts back when I accidentally realized Teru and Gundham would be interesting (be it platonic friendship OR shipped together). This will be a multichapter fic~
> 
> It has a silly starting concept (that's the crack, not the ship) and I hope you all can enjoy it. I'm having a ton of fun writing it c:
> 
> As a note, Teruteru's dialogue/expressions are a little more Bible Belt/Horse Farm Southern than the Cajun Southern of the dubbed game, apologies. He has such limited lines to use as examples that it was really hard for me to figure out how to write those parts of him properly. Hopefully I've found a decent compromise!

One would think having to start dinner preparations almost as soon as the breakfast tables were cleared would be a chore. Especially when nearly each day's schedule was also packed with tasks for class projects and whiling away a few hours with his many romantic pursuits. For almost any other student, perhaps it would be. But for himself, he would prefer nothing else! 

Choosing the night's particular dish was no simple task. This was no cliched high school lunchroom, or even a restaurant deciding on its nightly special! This required accounting for every individual's unique palette, interests and sensibilities, as well as accommodating for any allergies. On top of that, he could not serve the same categories of food two nights in a row, or anything too similar to what his peers might've chosen on their own for lunch throughout the day, lest they become bored. No, each new meal must stimulate different senses, exercise new portions of the tongue! 

And so he must start early and work at a swift pace to ensure he had everything prepared in advance. His sacred duty, his incredible task! A single man waging war in the kitchen against a barrage of wishes and complaints!

But of course, he was the Ultimate Chef! Or, to be more precise, the Super High School Level Cook, but that didn't have as much flair to it…

The point was, he could handle it, and tonight was going to be no exception. He had finally settled on two options. The first, a fine bouillabaisse, containing scorpionfish and European conger from the array of kitchen ingredients the resort had been provided with, as well as mussels and velvet crabs thanks to the island's plentiful supply. Typically, the seafood would be served separately from the broth on an elegant platter, but given his limited time and how exhausted his classmates would be after a hard day's efforts, he had decided to serve it as a true stew. The seafood would be more tender that way, easily deboned and skinned, melting into their famished mouths. Leeks, potatoes, onions, tomatoes, and celery would make up the rest of the broth, and as a lovely side, grilled slices of his freshest bread would be painstakingly caressed with rouille- a mayonnaise packed with the tongue-tingling tastes of olive oil, garlic, saffron, and a delicious kick of cayenne pepper!

And second, for any who cared less for seafood or refused to partake at all in its consumption, there would be ratatouille. A succulent vegetable-based stew to enrich the palette, containing the very best aubergine, courgette, bell peppers, and tomatoes. It would also be infused with thin pieces of onion and garlic, as well as olive oil to add a splash of extra flavour.

Was there any greater art than what he was prepared to birth into the world today? No, he didn't think so! Michaelangelo, Da'Vinci, _The Louvré itself_ couldn't hold a candle to his masterpiece! And it wasn't even finished yet! 

_When it is, I'll have all of those tender little lambs feeding from the palm of my hand~_

The gratitude upon their faces, their utter enchantment, even the big-boobed one's lewd slurping would be music to his ears. He was the God who gave them the most delicate taste of heaven's manna, a drop of his precious culinary nectar-

He was beginning to think it was not the heat of the kitchen bringing rosy flush to his cheeks and slick sweat to his brow. For a moment, he wondered if he could accomplish his tasks in a timely fashion, and then have some... _leisure time_ to himself.

No. A fine chef never dared rush their work. 

Shaking his head, he began humming to himself as he made his way towards the counter. Lost in thoughts of his artistic vision, he reached for the the cast iron pot he would use for the bouillabaisse. It was a massive thing, more of a witch's cauldron, and its squat girth nearly mimicked his own stature. But a worthy chef was stronger than he looked, lugging around large dishes or hefty armfuls of different platters all day, and he had no trouble hefting it up with both hands. There was not a quiver in his arms as he began walking across the kitchen.

There _was_ , however, a quiver up his entire spine when something as cold as ice brushed against it. A ghostly presence, gone as swiftly as it had come, spare the briefest glance of a sheet-white face out of the corner of his eye. 

_“AAAHHHHH! WHAT IN THE DEVIL!?!”_

Before he knew it, his feet had left solid ground and found themselves in the air. As he jumped, startled as if he’d just been tasered, his sacred burden left his hands, plummeting to the floor just in time to meet his shoes as he landed. 

In a handful of seconds, his peaceful world had been shattered. Birdsong morphed into vultures’ screams, the warm swelling in his heart became a glacial wall of ice, and agony pulsed through every nerve in his body. But mostly the crushed toes of his foot, which were now pinned under _an absolute boulder_ of a pot.

His vision may have been filled with tears, but he was seeing red. And the vast majority of that bloody haze was concentrated on _one scarlet eyeball_ that he wished he could gouge out of his ambusher’s skull. The creature standing nearby was not a ghost, but arguably something more unsettling than one, and just as capable of wreaking havoc upon decent living people.

His heart was pounding, his head was pounding, his foot was way past pounding, and his ears were pounding with the rush of his pulse until he couldn’t hear anything.

Somewhere, buried under all of that, words were flashing to the forefront of his mind. Words which came flying out of his mouth before he could think better of it. It was impossible to think better when you couldn’t think at all.

“CONSARN IT!!! _OOOOHHH_ SWEET MAMA-” He all but _howled,_ hopping around and soon finding himself leaning against the wall. “WHY I OUTTA- I TELL YA’ I’M ‘BOUT FIXIN’ TA’ HOGTIE YA’ 'N' FEED YA’ TA' DA' DAGGUM DOGS! I OUTTA FLAY YER SORRY HIDE 'N' SKIN YA’ 'N' HANG YA' OUTTA’ DRY! **_SUGAR HONEY ICED TEA,_** THAT SMARTS!!! YOU SONNOVA’ NUTCRACKER!!! WHAT IN THE SAM HILL GAVE YA' DA' IDEAR TA' SNEAK IN HERE YA' DAGGUM SNAKE OIL _SLEASE!_ AIN’T GOT NO HORSE SENSE! I’VE NEVAH BEEN SO ORNERY!!! I’M RIGHT RILED! MADDER'N A WET HEN! SHO’ NUFF Y’ALL’VE GONE N’ RUINED A PEACEFUL DAY N’ DRAGGED MA' DINNER THROUGH DA’ MUD!!! _I OUTTA TURN YA’ INTA’ POSSUM PIE!!!_ ”

Astoundingly, in all of this speech he did not shout any of the four-letter words that would've made his dear Mama cry. But perhaps it would've been better if he had.

"What mysterious curses thou hast lain upon me… Such strange syllables and syntax, and the web of contractions woven together…" He'd barely caught the freak's murmuring, still focused on the agonizing throbbing in his foot as he rubbed it, balancing unsteadily on one leg, but he was quick to pay more attention when the man leaned over him. That scarlet eye was drilling through his skull like a laser beam, and he felt his hair (along with every other part of his body) stand up straight. "Tell me, Mortal-" the strange man all but growled "-with which forbidden tongue doest doth speak?"

" _H-Huh?_ " Terror threatened to choke his voice out, and he inhaled sharply to search for courage. If he looked big and angry enough, maybe the self-proclaimed 'demon' would leave him alone. "What are you talking about!?!” he snapped, stomping his foot back down and biting back a yelp. “I-I didn't say anything out of the ordinary! Maybe you just need to clean all of that _rodent fur_ out of your ears!" 

He'd expected a reaction to his shouting, at the _very least_ for the man to be offended over the insult to those pests. But Gundham did not recoil, or snap back, or grab him by the collar. He didn't even blink, still staring down at him in what could only be described as transfixion. If it were anyone else staring at him with such awe, he would be very flattered. His ego, and perhaps something else, would swell tremendously from the attention. But this was a pasty, socially-challenged edgelord with a God- er, _Devil_ -complex, who had just heard him drop every hideously embarrassing phrase he'd desperately tried to scrub from his vocabulary, and with an accent that completely undermined the dignified status he'd achieved over the years.

"Your dedication to secrecy is admirable, but the feline has already escaped from your sack of falsehoods… I understand wishing to protect the tools of your trade, but still…" In the time it took him to blink, still struggling to find a way out of this trap, he found the taller boy had dropped to the floor. Gundham was kneeling in a bizarre, almost _regal_ fashion, and while the rest of his body was bowed, those eyes still stared up at him.

Was… was that freak _pleading?_

"In all my years walking this mortal plane… Nay! Even in the years of my _past_ lives, such a fascinating song has never reached my ears! In all my tomes and incantations, not once have I witnessed such unique sorcery! You must have a soul much older and wiser than I anticipated, and I pray you will forgive me for my past hastened judgement! Teruteru Hanamura, Keeper of Divine Language Untold, you have bewitched me! And now, though it is an exceedingly rare occurrence, I humble myself before another! I humble myself before you, in the hopes you will find it deep within your flaming heart to take pity upon me! _Please_ , teach me the ways of your kind! Allow me to learn your spells of power and intellect unmatched, so that I may cast them myself!"

" _Huh?_ " It was all he could think to say at first, staring down at the scene before him. The past few minutes had been a whirlwind, from pain and fury to being completely blindsided, and now… now there was whatever the heck _this_ was. Sure, he used the word ‘potion’ to describe that _special concoction_ he planned to serve as a drink to some of their more attractive classmates, but that was only because ‘Love Potion’ was a cute name. He didn’t actually believe in that crap! ‘Sorcery’ and ‘spells’, that kind of nerdy gobbledygook never made sense to him! It was incredibly lame and bizarre, and twice as confusing when coming from the absolute fashion travesty kneeling before him.

How did he get himself into this mess? How was he supposed to get out of it?!?

_Of all the people to witness me, why’d it have to be him? He’s not even cute! He’s just pale and strange! Screw the coocoo’s nest, he’s the father coocoo of them all!!!_

Wait.

That _did_ give him an inkling of an idea though… A chef could certainly take unpolished ingredients and make them into something wonderful. So could he not convert his bad luck into a better fortune? Turn this bitter lemon into sweet lemonade?

_Could it be… he really does believe I was speaking some foreign incantation? If that’s true, and he really has no idea about-_

Yes… _Yesss…._ This could work. If he worked the boy _just right_ , he might be able to get out of this without ruining his reputation after all! 

"So, to clarify… You want me to teach you how to speak the way I do? Or rather, the way I did earlier."

" _Yesss!_ ” Gundham all but leapt up, those mis-matched eyes shining with more enthusiasm than he’d seen the boy show for _anything_ except those damn hamsters. In fact, when Gundham spoke next, his tone was almost a hungry growl, as if he might devour him whole just to get what he wanted. “Show me _the divine feats_ your tongue is capable of!!!"

For once, the clear opportunity to make use of that entendre didn’t entice him in the slightest. In fact, when Gundham was the one saying it, it almost sent an unsettling chill down his spine, and he would have recoiled if he wasn’t already up against the wall. But he had no choice. If Gundham learned the true origins of his accent, or worse, started telling the others about it, his entire stylish facade would be ruined! He’d never be appealing to anyone in the class! And he certainly wouldn’t _have_ class!

_For the sake of my future and my family, I’ll have ta’ suck it up! All I have ta’ do is play along with his silly fantasies… I can do that!_

He was suave, charming, the epitome of a silver tongue… he could easily fool someone who already had half their head in the clouds!

_Y’know… this might even be entertaining. If he’s that desperate to learn from me, he’ll do anything I tell him to, right? Anything…_

“Well, oridinarily I wouldn’t even _consider_ sharing my secrets with someone I _completely_ outclass…” he mused, bringing a finger to his chin and stepping away from Gundham. He made a show of pacing back and forth, all foot pain forgotten thanks to this new opportunity. Gundham tracked his every movement with bated breath, and soon four more pairs of eyes joined him, those fuzzy little gremlins poking out of their scarf nest to observe. “But if you’re serious about prostrating yourself before me…”

“I am!” Gundham was quick to exclaim, dropping back down onto his hands and knees. “I prostrate myself before you! I shall prostrate myself a hundred times over!”

He barely managed to hold back a snicker. It was really too easy with this guy. While the lack of getting flustered was a bit disappointing, it was almost a little _endearing_ how oblivious he was. Bless that sweet, innocent little virgin.

_Not that I'm surprised he's never been laid._

“You really are eager, aren’t you? Very well.” he sighed graciously, gesturing for the sucker to stand. “I, _generous and most benevolent_ as I am, shall take you under my wing, _sweet protege!_ You must follow my every command, no questions asked! You will treat me with the utmost respect, befitting a prince- no, a God! And above all else, this must stay a secret between only the two of us!”

“And... the Devas, yes?” And so Gundham immediately violated the no questions rule, gesturing to their pack of onlookers. All four had their ears pricked, squinting at him with a scrutiny that was almost threatening.

_Quit lookin’ at me like that, ya’ buncha’ varmints!_

“And the Devas, of course.” he answered calmly. “This must stay a secret between the two of us _and_ the Devas. _I mean it._ No one else on this island can know, not even Miss Usami! Guard this secret of ours _with your life!_ Or I’ll curse you beyond your wildest dreams!” Puffing up his chest, he waved his arms dramatically. Yet again, Gundham didn't flinch.

“While I do not doubt your prowess with the dark arts, allow me to reassure you that there shall be no need! My Devas and I are well-versed in keeping secrets from the mortal realm! After all, if such pitiful creatures were to attempt to mimic our work recklessly, this fragile world would descend into chaos, would it not? _We alone_ are the only beings responsible enough to wield such otherworldly powers…” He didn't seem excited, or braggadocious. If anything, Gundham had an exceptionally grim tone to his voice, staring somberly at the floor. 

_He really takes all this mumbo-jumbo seriously... like anyone who hears us speaking some 'magical' drawl'll bring the end of the world! Horsehockey!_

It was preposterous, funny, and a fair bit unsettling. If he wasn't careful, either Gundham's clear insanity would rub off on him, or the nutjob would try to get him to participate in a freakin' blood ritual or something!

"Er, _yeah…_ " Blotting at the beading sweat on his forehead with a red handkerchief from his breast pocket, he forced himself to keep looking directly into those mismatched eyes. "I'm pleased to see you're taking me seriously, my young black swan. Now that-"

"A raven."

"Pardon?"

"My soul's spirit is a raven, not a swan." Not only did Gundham have the audacity to correct him, he seemed downright indignant about it, tilting up his nose and scoffing like the last word had left a foul flavour upon his lips. "They collect trinkets, have vast memories and are capable of holding grudges and discerning ally from foe, and-"

"SILENCE, my student!" Whatever scraps of patience he was pretending to have left were wearing thin. For the first time since arriving on the island, he witnessed the devil startle, rambling mouth shutting and his spine straightening as if he'd been lashed with a ruler. Huh. Come to think of it, maybe he should start carrying a ruler as a weapon to keep him in line. Just in case.

His head was beginning to ache, and he took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "My young black _raven."_ (Which was _so_ much more cliche and _far_ less beautiful than a black swan, Gundham had no taste with his ugly emo garbage, _honestly-)_ "Now that we have entered our contract and you have been sworn to divine secrecy, I must return to my, er, _Mortal_ duties. We cannot let the lesser beings become suspicious, after all. I believe it would be best if we separated for today, and reconvened at a later date to begin your training. We may discuss the details of our arrangement then."

"If that is your command, then very well." Gundham dipped his head in a bow. "I shall simply gather the required sustenance for the Devas, then any trace of our presence on this plane will vanish!" So that was the reason he'd disturbed the kitchen in the first place. Food for his grubby little monsters.

_He didn't have to sneak though… slippin' across the tile quiet as a cat, nearly gave me a heart attack… Somebody outta strap a bell on him!_

Swallowing down his simmering annoyance (at this rate, he was bound to have heartburn for the rest of the day), he bent down to heft the pot up and dust it off, heading towards the stove. Once it was safely placed in its spot, he turned to flash Gundham a smile as the boy rifled through the fridge. "Ah, kale and spinach, lovely choices. Would the Devas prefer to upgrade to a salad? I've got plenty of heads of lettuce lying around!"

He might as well bribe the critters while he was at it. They clearly weren't happy about him manipulating their master, and if Gundham's tall claims that they could push buttons and pick locks were somehow _true_ , it was best to keep them content. 

Gundham merely raised an eyebrow at the offer. "That shall depend upon the offered breed."

"Hmm?"

"The iceberg variety is a commoners' choice, as tasteless and devoid of nutrients as the frozen husks for which it has been named. It offends both their palettes and their delicate stomachs." Gundham scowled, lips curling. "However… romaine may be an acceptable gift."

_Picky little varmints, aren't they?_

"Romaine it is! I'll wash that up and prepare the salad. Then if you would please leave me to prepare the _Mortal feast-_ "

"Shall we reconvene tomorrow, when the flaming eye is at its peak?"

He paused where he was cleansing the bushels of vegetation at the sink, glancing back up at Gundham. That early? He couldn't even get a day's respite from all this loon's pestering before he had to take on _yet another_ false identity? At this rate he should've been the Ultimate… Actor? No, that word didn't quite cover it. Imposter? 

But what kind of ridiculous talent would that be?

"I'll have to check my schedule. Why that time in particular?"

"Is it not obvious? The solar energies will be at their strongest, providing us with much needed power. Of course, moon rays would be more powerful, but alas, our lapine guardian has forbidden us from stalking around during such hours…"

"Of course, of course! Silly me! I've been around these magic-less peons for so long, things like that appear to have slipped my mind! Tomorrow then…" Gathering up the bundle of freshly washed greens, he chopped them up into appropriately smaller leaves before doling them out onto four small dishes, the size one would use for tea biscuits or miniature sandwiches. "Tomorrow I'll teach you how to work some magic with your tongue~" he purred, passing the plates towards Gundham with a wink.

He might as well have teased a wall. Gundham didn't react beyond a formal dip of his head, and then he was out the door as swiftly and silently as he'd entered.

It was just as well. While he was sure he could find some specks of amusement in toying with the class circus act, this whole appointment tomorrow was ultimately going to be a waste of a day and his precious free time. He groaned under his breath, turning back to his prepared ingredients with much less enthusiasm than he'd had earlier. The day wasn't even halfway over, and he was already worn out…

_The things I do to protect my dignity…_

But was there really any dignity in this?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I really appreciate it and would love to hear from you all (even on anon)! Have a lovely day! ❤


End file.
